


Speakeasy

by kaleleafs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mob, BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Confused Bucky Barnes, Confused Steve Rogers, Except Natasha, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Tony Stark, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I wrote this in class, Idiots in Love, Italian Tony Stark, M/M, Mild Language, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Mob Boss Tony Stark, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Time Skips, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, but only kind of, everyone is confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-29 08:07:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleleafs/pseuds/kaleleafs
Summary: "You want to shoot me, bello? Hm? Was this your plan from the start? Get into my good graces and learn my secrets only to eliminate me in the end?"





	1. break me like a promise

**Author's Note:**

> better known as that one time i wrote a 1920s prohibition mob AU in history 1200

***Steve's POV***

The Captain knocked one, two, three times on the expensive wooden door to the building, the eerie silence of the night doing nothing to aid his increasing paranoia. Surprisingly, the door remains shut and he shifts on his feet drawing an annoyed huff from the man next to him.

"Would you cut it out already?" The brunette drawls, voice tinged with irritation and fond exasperation. "Ain't no way we're getting in with you acting like this."

The Captain opens his mouth to throw a snarky response back at his partner but the sound of a latch sliding open stops him before he can begin.

"Password?"

"Shield," the Captain replies before he can change his mind, hoping his voice sounds more confident than he feels.

The door opens without a sound and the Captain finds himself in a dark walkway staring into the eyes of a burly blonde man.

Without hesitation, the Soldier leads the way through the dark building through what, during the day, would be a high-end restaurant. The Captain follows his partner down a narrow hallway and finally through a slightly sheltered door. Only when they begin to walk down the stairs do they hear the music pulsing through the humid air. Even the Captain will admit-- the atmosphere is electrifying.

The scenery, as much as the Captain hates to admit it, is equally as pleasing. The large basement looks nothing of the sort, transformed into warm golds and yellow lights. Women and men alike dance freely encircled in fine suits and stunning crystal-like sparkles. The live music is entrancing and though it isn't his scene, the blonde Captain gets the appeal.

"Told you it was somethin'," the Soldier smirks, blue-gray eyes twinkling in the light.

"Yeah, yeah," the Captain waves him off, his own blue eyes rolling in amusement as he side steps lavish couches and various tables. "You sure he's here?"

The Captain's question is answered by the sight of a man, no, the man he's looking for sitting at the bar nursing a glass of scotch. He's well-dressed in a tailored black suit looking at home on a stool as he chats with the bartender. Despite never meeting the man personally, the Captain would recognize him anywhere due to the naturally smug aura and neatly trimmed facial hair that seems to be plastered on every newspaper in New York.

The Captain and the Soldier barely have time to make it to the bar before a brilliant redhead is pulling a revolver from a holster on her thigh covered only by her short, white-sequined dress. Her equally red lips are pulled into a tight "try me" smile and the two men freeze while the dirty blonde-haired bartender simply snickers.

Finally, the man of the hour turns to assess the situation, honey-brown eyes radiating interest as he looks the blonde and his brunette accomplice over. He seems calm which is something the Captain notes thoughtfully, almost as though he was anticipating this very situation. His eyes flicker briefly to the Soldier, honey-brown darkening to something that resembles hurt before falling away into carefully amused.

"Natalia," the Soldier gasps in mock betrayal. "I'm hurt."

"Easy there, cara mia," the man man chuckles to the redhead in smooth, honey-voiced Italian making the Captain raise his eyebrows in surprise. "James is a friend."

"Yeah, I'll say," the bartender huffs, grinning at the glare the other man shoots him.

"That may be so, gattino, but he has brought a stranger with him this evening," Natalia responds coolly in the same careful accent, not so much as even looking at James as she lowers the gun to the table but keeps the weapon at arms length as though she knows better than to trust them; the Captain supposes he can't blame her paranoia.

"Hardly a stranger," the man muses with a thoughtful look at the two of them. "Barton, get these men a drink."

"Always so demanding, Stark," the bartender, Barton, rolls his eyes but moves to pour the scotch nonetheless.

"So, James," Stark hums casually, the fake aura of casualness rolling off of him in waves. "Any particular reason you chose to abuse my trust this evening?"

Stark, contrary to his flippant tone, allows a flash of hurt to dance through his eyes and if the Captain wasn't watching so intensely, he would have certainly missed it. The Soldier tenses next to him as though the words hurt him which wouldn't make sense. James was doing his job and he certainly doesn't work for Stark. But the well-dressed man in front of him has a right to feel betrayed, of course; speakeasys aren't exactly legal and bootlegging warrants serious jail time.

"Now don't be that way, darlin'. Stevie here ain't going to squeal," the Soldier drawls lazily.

Steve is almost distracted by the easy flow of endearment at the use of his name, his first name for that matter. That was not part of the plan.

"For his sake, I hope he doesn't," Barton smirks as though he's absolutely hoping Steve _does_ try to bust them. "He won't get far."

"Be polite, Clint," Natalia smiles, all sharp teeth and cold calculation. "That's no way to talk to the Captain."

Steve tenses and in an instant, everything is turned around. If Steve had known their cover would be blown the second they walked in, this plan would have never even been put into play. His mind is already running a mile a minute thinking of ways to get out of this, the people he'll have to call to make sure this stays silent, the cost and pure amount of _effort_ it would take to make _the_ Tony Stark disappear. He's nervous and he can tell his partner feels the same way with the harsh clench of his fingers on the glass of scotch.

"Tony-"

And since when was James on a first name basis with _Stark_?

"Which makes you the Winter Soldier then, am I right? Of course I'm right, I always am," Tony looks wounded but not surprised, something the Captain should have noted as a red flag sooner. "Tell me, Soldier, Captain, what do the _Howling Commandos_ want with my establishment?"

Tony makes their names sound evil in his level tone, but Steve can't miss the threat of danger there. He has no doubts in his mind that Tony Stark is a dangerous man, that's half of why he's even here. His only hope is to try to talk his way out of this one.

"No need to pretend it isn't true," Natalia, as though reading Steve's thoughts, shrugs carelessly. "I made the two of you the second you walked in."

Steve is willing to do a lot of things but throwing his mob under the bus is not one of them. He's their Captain, he's _the_ Captain, and he isn't afraid of anyone. Not even Tony Stark and his crew.

"Trust me, we ain't trying to sink your business, doll," James insists, trying to catch Tony's eye but the other man won't allow it.

"Trust you," he repeats with an airy scoff. "You've made that quite difficult for me, innamorato."

Steve might be relatively fluent in German but he doesn't even try to act like he understands Italian.

"Don't flatter yourself, we have no need for your dirty money, Stark," Steve practically sneers and suddenly Barton is twirling a knife in his hand and James is sighing next to him.

"I'm a businessman, Mr. Rogers. I see an opportunity and I take it. I assure you that Stark Industries has no interest in the success of the bootlegging business. But I happen to appreciate good liquor and a good time; when prohibition ends, and it will end, so will this little side business."

"Like you need the extra money," Clint scoffs.

"Yeah, but you do so stop whining," Tony fires back humorously.

But Steve is a little more caught up on his little speech. "How do you know my last name?"

"Seriously?" Tony raises his eyebrows and shoots a look at James. "Barnes talks very highly of you, _Captain_. I would've been able to place you anywhere."

"And why would Bucky be discussing anything about me with you lot?" He shoots his partner a warning look, anger beginning to bubble under his skin.

Bucky might be his best friend but even he knows the rules of their business. If he doesn't have a good reason for all of this, he's certainly going to have to face the consequences.

Tony, Steve notes, stays carefully quiet regarding the two of them with pursed lips. He looks like he has something to say, but opts to let Bucky handle himself.

"If you've heard of the Howlies then you must know why we're here," Bucky tries again, desperation beginning to seep into his voice.

"I've heard of your mob, Barnes, hence Natalia's rightful hesitance towards your friend here."

"Hostile, aren't you, tesoro?" Natalia mocks and places a hand on the back of Tony's neck in a comforting manner. Steve, due to being on high alert, doesn't think he imagines the sly smirk she sends Bucky and the way he flinches in response. "Let them talk, hm?"

After walking onto his turf, Steve's more convinced now than ever that Tony Stark is the leader of New York's biggest mob -- the Avengers. They're credited with dozens of assassinations and are known for running a successful underground bootlegging business; not to mention that they sell the most high-tech weapons in the world. Everything he's seen today supports that theory.

"We want to team up," Steve says finally. "The Howling Commandos and the Avengers on the same side."

Tony's face goes carefully blank with absolutely no way to tell what he's thinking or if he's even heard Steve at all. It's something he's sure he's picked up from years of dealing with the press and hiding his second life from the entire world, something that's admirable even to Steve. But it's a dangerous situation, the one Bucky's put them in-- it proves Steve and his people know that the Avengers exist and puts them right at the top of the hit list. The Howlies are a strong mob, sure, but with none of the resources of the Avengers, they wouldn't stand a chance.

"It's a cute idea, Cap, really," Tony leans back on the table, his face a mask of pure relaxation. "If the Avengers were, you know, real and all."

"You mean to tell me that they're not real?" Steve deadpans, showcasing his disbelief easily.

"Not to say I'm not honored that you think I could lead New York's most successful gang," Tony continues as though Steve never interrupted. "But I'm afraid you've got it all wrong."

"It ain't like that baby, come on."

\- -

***Tony's POV***

Tony closes his eyes letting the smooth Brooklyn drawl wash over him like water. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend the words are whispered in the dark surrounded by silk sheets and binding promises.

They're not, however.

"What is it like then, _Bucky_?" Clint taunts and Tony feels him at his back opposite of Natalia. "Is it okay if I call you Bucky? We _are_ friends, right?"

This is his fault, of course, like everything else. He may not have told James specifics of his business outside of Stark Industries, but the implications are there under a layer of perceived trust and loyalty. Clearly, Tony was wrong to even give that much away.

"Let's run hypotheticals here, yeah?" Tony claps his hands and plasters his best publicity smile on his lips. He's a Stark and Stark men are made of iron; not even James' betrayal can break him.

"Anthony.." It's a warning and a question all in one and he waves Natalia's concern off with one hand.

"Suppose I am the leader of this fictional mob, what does that mean for you? You say you don't want my dirty money, but I'm Tony Stark, sweetheart. Though my cunning wit and ungodly good looks are certainly some key features, I am, most notably, a billionaire. If not money, then what?"

"Maybe the Captain here wants your friendship," Clint snickers sarcastically.

"Stark is a textbook narcissist," Nat adds with a wry smile of her own. "He doesn't work well with others."

"Enough," Steve finally snaps and Tony simply raises his eyebrows.

"Stevie-" Bucky starts but is cut off by an icy glare.

"No. We tried it your way and we're getting nowhere," Steve squares his, admittedly large, shoulders and fixes his glare on Tony instead. "I know who you are, Iron Man, and I'm not afraid of your gang. We wanted an alliance but if it comes to fighting then so be it."

At the merest suggestion of a fight, Clint's bow is placed pointedly on the bar and the revolver finds its way back into Natalia's hands. James tenses and the sight makes Tony smirk— let him be worried, he brought it on himself.

"That's your problem, Captain. You lack subtlety. The world has no proof of the Avengers, never will, because we're ghosts. There's too much at stake for my team to go running around in broad daylight eliminating threats; that's the difference between you and I," Tony shrugs and turns his attention towards James. He wants him to really feel the next part. "I knew who you were before you even stepped in here tonight."

James lets out a choked sound that might be a whimper and although Tony wants nothing more than to pull him close, it draws a morbid sense of satisfaction out of him.

"You knew?" He breathes out, metal fist clenching and unclenching unconsciously in his conflict. "This whole time? You knew I was the Winter Soldier?"

It's not that he had known exactly, but if the metal arm isn't a dead give away then Tony doesn't know what is.

"The same way you knew who I was il mio amore, though at least I wasn't using you for your secrets," Tony's smile is painstakingly fake as he regards his lover. "Between taking out rivals in broad daylight and prancing around with that shield-" Tony pauses and straightens in his seat. "-the shield that _my father_ made for you-"

"The same father that HYDRA had assassinated, Stark!" Steve yells as though it was his point all along.

"I know who killed my father," Tony bites back and stands, the distinctive click of a pistol's safety being turned off temporarily distracting him as he eyes the weapon from the corner of his eye.

Tony is no stranger to looking death in the eye, he almost welcomes it like an old friend. Plenty of people have tried to pin Tony Stark in place with a pistol pressed to the temple, weapons drawn in an attempt to subdue him— it never works. Slowly, with a smirk that is much more pain than smugness, he turns to face the threat.

"You want to shoot me, bello?" Tony asks James softly meeting wounded blue-gray eyes. Pure conflict rages in those storms of blue, hands shaking in what Tony knows is an uncharacteristic way for him. "Hm? Was this your plan from the start? Get into my good graces and learn my secrets only to eliminate me in the end?"

"What does he mean, Buck?" The Captain glances at his partner stunned to see his hands shaking. Bucky is one of the best sniper's Steve's ever seen; his hands never shake.

"You know that's not true," Bucky's voice matches his hands, raw vulnerability hooked onto his words.

"You didn't tell the good Captain how you got in here? Did he assume you got the password from some unlucky passerby?"

"Stop. None of that is necessary."

Tony wants to stop, wants to curl up in the sniper's arms like he has so many times before. But Tony is the boss god damn it, his team needs him to be strong enough to handle this. So slowly, oh-so slowly, he taps the silver band on his wrist and looks James in those ocean eyes.

"What do you want from me, Giacobbo? We welcomed you here with open arms, all the while knowing who you were. Natalia warned me of your inevitable betrayal and I told her she was wrong, but look where we are," Tony sighs, a frown on his lips as he wills his breathing to level. "I'm not sure what you were expecting when you walked in here. Part of me wants to applaud you on your bravery, your will, but another is furious at your stupidity. You know I can't let you walk out of here, James."

And his words are true because he knew, he _knew_ that his affiliation with the Avengers would lead to some splitting point in his relationship with James. He was content to ignore it in the face of pleasure and happiness because he'd never had both of those things in his life simultaneously. He'd do anything to keep James by his side, anything except betray those he promised to protect.

"He's not lying, Tony," James whispers, his white-knuckled grip on the revolver never loosening. "This doesn't have to end in a fight."

A flash of movement behind the Captain catches Tony's eye and in an instant he knows peace isn't an option. Perhaps it was always meant to end like this— Tony alone with the business he created, devoid of the simple pleasures in life that he holds most dear. True, he loves James. But what's that saying?

"I'm sorry, cuore mio." Because he is, so, so sorry for ever thinking he could have _this_ in the world he's living in and convincing James to free fall with him. "But all is fair in love and war, darling."

Then the gauntlet is covering his suited arm, having attached to the metal band making the whole thing a relatively tight fit. He doesn't bother with the rest of the armor, there's not enough time for all of that right now.

"Buck, _move_!"

"Stark, _no_!"

There's the Captain's yelling mixed with some other voices he can't pinpoint in the sudden chaos and a gun shot coming from somewhere, but, with a sigh of relief, Tony has time to let off one crucial repulser blast before feeling the familiar sharpness of a bullet in his abdomen.

There's more yelling as the warm yellow light of the room fills with black spots from his vision and Tony wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Him, _the_ Tony Stark, defeated by love out of everything? Howard would be livid. Perhaps he'll tell him as much when Tony makes it to Hell because surely there's nothing good waiting for a man like him on the other side.

That's the last thought on his mind as he gives in to the unforgiving darkness and lets his body go limp.

\- - - 

italian translations (curtesy of multiple websites)

• cara mia - my dear  
• gattino - kitten  
• tesoro - darling/treasure  
• innamorato - sweetheart  
• il mio amore - my love  
• bello - beautiful  
• Giacobbo - italian/sicilian name for James  
• cuore mio - my heart


	2. i remember it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Soldier, one of the most effective hitmen in the world, ran the second that bullet was fired.

***Bucky's POV***

Bucky ran— even now, a year later, he can recall it with horrifying clarity— he ran. The Winter Soldier, one of the most effective hitmen in the world, ran the second that bullet was fired. The moment Tony Stark— _his_ Tony as his guilty conscious won't let him forget and a sick, sadistic part of him likes the wave of pain the thought brings anyways— hit the ground, Steve was pulling Bucky from the entrancing speakeasy turned crime scene.

To this day, Bucky still doesn't know who fired that fatal bullet. He only knows it wasn't him. The instant the fiery red gauntlet encompassed Tony's hand, Bucky resigned himself to his fate. After all, any other organization would have had him executed on the spot for his betrayal, but isn't that why he went to Tony with the Captain in the first place? Because he knew that after the many nights they spent mapping where their body's ended and the other's started that Tony wouldn't hurt him, maybe even _loved_ him.

Now, the thought just makes Bucky sick.

He hadn't even known why he was still alive until Natalia paid him a visit a few days after the incident.  
  
  


_"It's a nice place you have here," Natalia mused when Bucky found her overlooking Brooklyn from the view in his office, red hair a vibrant contrast against the pale morning light._

_She looked lethal in a casual emerald dress that made the sharp look in her eyes stand out. She was breathtaking and dangerous and for the first time since Bucky had known her, he was afraid._

_"It is."_

_"You should talk to the Captain about finding better security." She was facing him then, porcelain skin a blank mask on her face._

_"No amount of security could keep you out," Bucky deadpanned, awaiting whatever punishment Natalia had come to give him. "Why are you here?"_

_"In a rush to kick me out, James?" She mused, lips pulled tight in an imitation of a smile. "Very well then. I came to deliver a mission report regarding one Anthony Edward Stark."_

_And how she stayed so carefully calm Bucky will never understand because in that moment he lost the ability to breathe. All at once, the image of Tony, white undershirt blooming red and whiskey eyes falling closed, consumed his every thought making Bucky physically stumble and grasp blindly at the wall._

_"I don't- please," Bucky pleaded without even really knowing what for._

_"DOA, single bullet wound through the ribs," Natalia continued coolly, detached as though the man wasn't her boss, wasn't her _friend_. "The victim fired a single shot at presumed HYDRA operative Brock Rumlow— perpetrator was also found dead on arrival."_

_"HYDRA?" Bucky had asked because even though his mind was moving rather slow, he still knew what that name meant._

_"Rumlow had his firearm aimed at _you_, James," Natalia shrugged, uncaring of the impact those words had on Bucky as she placed a case on his desk. "He saved your life," she shook her head as though she herself couldn't understand it. "And he wanted you to have this."_

_She left Bucky alone then, nothing more than Tony's case and his own guilt to keep him company. Swallowing, Bucky had opened the box, stomach turning at the apartment key, Tony's apartment key, laying there and shut it just as quick._

\- - - - - -

And so, a year later, that's where he stands. He had assumed Stark Industries would crumble without its CEO, but with a new CEO in place, the business seems better than ever. He had thought the Avengers would disappear without their leader, but there are whisperings of their endeavors everywhere.

Ultimately, everyone's world had continued to spin after Tony Stark died. Everyone except Bucky's.

"I didn't even go to his funeral," Bucky moans pitifully, doing his best to drop his head in despair. 

"Seriously?" Steve tries to snap from across the room where he's pulling hopelessly at the shackles around his wrists and forearms. "_That_ is what you're worried about right now?"

True, it's not the most ideal situation for Bucky to be self-reflecting in. Bucky and Steve had been taken out on what was supposed to be a routine parole of their territory, but HYDRA had finally gained the upper hand. A mob boss and his right-hand man getting ambushed and kidnapped doesn't exactly look good for business. Though, with Steve tied up like a hog across the mostly empty warehouse and Bucky standing chained like a totem pole, Bucky would say it isn't really looking goof for them either.

"He died because we led HYDRA right to him," Bucky bites back with an equal amount of fire and exasperation. "Kinda hard not to think about that right now."

"You're the Winter Soldier, Buck," Steve says, his voice taking on his infuriatingly dominant Captain tone. "You better god damn act like it and get a grip."

Bucky shoots his lifelong best friend a glare that could kill taking on what he hopes to be his murder stare.

"I'll kill every single one of them for what they did to him."

Just like that, the pain and self-loathing disappears from Bucky's face replaced by a mask of cold and collected ease. It's what many of the Howlies have deemed his "murder mask," not that Bucky has ever bothered to correct them. If Steve wants the Winter Soldier, then the Winter Soldier he shall get.

However, before the Soldier and the Captain can begin to plot their escape, the voice of two newcomers makes them freeze.

"Well, if it isn't our lucky day!"

The Soldier turns to assess the threat level of the newcomers— a man with short light brown hair dressed in all black with a bow in his hand and arrows strapped to his back accompanied by a brilliant red-head in what could only be described as a black catsuit. Threat level high. A thin black 'A' peeks out from the woman's collar bone and the man's forearm. The Soldier recognizes them. He relaxes.

"Took you long enough," Steve grumbles as the woman uses some weapon Bucky doesn't recognize to snap the chains.

"We weren't sure if we wanted to save you," the light-haired brunette quips from where he's leaning against a post not unlike the one Bucky is currently tied to. "Actually, we really don't want to save you."

"Clint," the redhead warns as she moves to unchain Bucky.

"Oh, come on, Natalia," he drawls, fingering an arrow in what looks like boredom. "Don't act like you wanted to save these idiots."

"Then why are you here?" Bucky counters with a raised eyebrow, groaning as Natalia rubs his skin raw with one of the chains.

"Boss' orders," she responds tonelessly.

"We would have much rather killed you," Clint points out.

"Clint."

"What? Not like they don't deserve it after the mess they've caused."

"Where is your boss then?" Steve asks, all Captain and none Steve Rogers.

This seems to get the archer's attention because while Natalia works on unravelling Bucky, Clint is pushing off the post and sauntering over to Steve. Bucky finds himself silently admiring the archer's lack of fear as he stares down the taller man; not many people look at Steve like that.

"Listen, don't take the fact that we haven't killed you as some sort of display of loyalty or friendship," Clint snarls, arm muscles tightening as his fists clench. "You won't get another chance at that stunt you pulled last year."

Bucky's mind, for all that it's usually running a mile a minute, analyzing and plotting, feels as though it's moving in slow motion.

"What Boss?" He asks dumbly. "What does he mean 'another chance,' Steve?"

Natalia, apparently fed up with the situation, steps away from Bucky long enough to give him a proper glare.

"Let us be perfectly clear— we are here on Boss' orders. James is on the Untouchables list, so untouched he shall remain," she sounds exasperated as though she adamantly disagrees with the whole situation.

"I... what?" Good one, Bucky. He chastises himself for his inability to even form a complete sentence.

"Uh, Nat?" Bucky gathers enough of his mind to see Clint grimacing at something on Bucky's chain-clad chest.

"Buck-" Steve's eyes widen as he tries to take a step towards him, but Natalia's arm shoots out and stops him easily.

"Call it in," Natalia's level voice barely wavers but Bucky still manages to detect the hint of uncertainty.

"But-" Clint's eyes grow wide and in any other situation it would actually be comical.

"Now, Clint," she snaps, focusing back on Bucky. "It's too advanced, I can't dismantle it."

Dismantle it? Bucky slowly raises his newly freed hands to his stomach where- oh. _Oh_.

"Don't touch it, dumbass!" Natalia hisses as she slaps his hands away from the bomb.

The bomb. Strapped to his chest. Oh.

With a sigh of resignation and a muttered "because this is a good idea," Clint presses down on his... ear? "Code light it up, alpha level Winter."

"Seriously? Light it up?" Steve's worried blue eyes betray his mock irritation as he stares at Bucky's chest. He's pacing then, much more Steve Rogers than the Captain (Bucky would have to say it's about 75-25 at the moment), and Bucky doesn't even know what to do, what to _think_. He can't even move.

"A code name is a code name," Clint shrugs as though he deals with this sort of thing everyday. Bucky wouldn't be surprised if he does.

"You're expecting me to just trust that your boss will show up?" Steve asks through brilliantly white gritted teeth.

"Our _Boss_ is the only reason you're alive, Captain," Natalia responds smoothly. "Besides, what other option do you have? Would you like to dismantle the bomb? You're welcome to try.

"Besides, James might be a pretty sight now but I doubt he looks half as good with his insides splattered on the walls," Clint adds with a wry grin.

"What I would like to know is why your Boss would even help us. He turned down our proposition."

"And you also shot him," Clint supplies unhelpfully.

He? Proposition? _Shot_?

For the millionth time since he's been chained up, Bucky doesn't know what the hell is going on. Rather, he has some idea, but there's absolutely no way it could be true.

"Steve, tell me this isn't what I think it is," Bucky's tone is level but he feels seconds away from either begging or passing out. 

"Bucky-" Steve winces and even though Bucky knows it's true, he needs to hear him say it.

"Answer me, Stevie! Did you shoot him that night?"

Again, Bucky is met with a pair of whiskey-brown eyes falling shut, red blossoming like a gruesome flower on a white undershirt. A gauntleted hand falls to the ground. Brown hair is strewn messily across his face.

When Bucky opens his eyes, Clint looks amused at the whole ordeal as though all he needs is a bowl of popcorn and he'd be set. Natalia looks like she'd prefer to be doing anything else. And Steve, Steve just squares those huge shoulders and meets Bucky's eyes guiltlessly. 

"I though he was going to kill you," the Captain shrugs lamely. "He was the leader of a rival mov and I thought he was going to kill you. I'd do it again, too."

And all at once, everything is dead silent. Bucky knows his mouth his probably gaping open like a damn fish as he tries to form a coherent thought, but all he notices is his world spinning on its axis. It feels like, well, it feels like the bomb on his chest has already exploded bathing his world in a mess of color, pain and absolute chaos.

"While this has been fun—" Clint claps his hands together in the loud silence of the tension-filled warehouse. "—Boss has given me an ETA of three minutes."

"Oh, because this isn't urgent enough," Steve scoffs while Bucky wishes he had more time. More time to get his thoughts together, more time to prepare himself from seeing a literal ghost.

"He's taking out the rest of the HYDRA lackeys," Natalia shrugs as though it's the least of her worries. It probably is.

"Because of me?" Bucky asks and the look Natalia gives him makes him feel like the dumbest person alive. But he needs to know, needs the confirmation, because he's spent a year thinking the worst and now he's being told the opposite.

Clint scoffs audibly, rolling his eyes at Bucky's incompetence. "'Because of me,' he asks. Yes, because of you."

Because Bucky's on his Untouchables list. Every influential mob leader has one— a list of people important to them who, if anyone were to harm them, all hell would break loose. And Bucky doesn't want to think about what it means that he's on it, not that his mind will let him ignore it. All the times people steered clear of him, let him go when they realized who he was, it wasn't because he's the Winter Soldier, not even because of his involvement with the Captain.

No. It was because they feared going against Tony Stark, feared the consequences of messing with things that are his.

_His_.

The thought sends pleasant chills down Bucky's spine and he doesn't even know what to think because mere minutes ago he believed this very man to be dead. But mostly, Bucky thinks that this would be a horrible time to get an erection.

Still, none of that changes the fact that Tony was dead, or, at least, he was supposed to be. And he certainly didn't mind letting Bucky think otherwise. In fact, they all lied to him and for what? Lie to him to keep him loyal to the Howlies, to keep him away from Tony, to _hurt_ him? None of those are good enough reasons in Bucky's eyes.

Though deep in his own thoughts, Bucky doesn't miss the sound of metal clanking on the ground, couldn't miss it if he wanted to. Suddenly, Bucky is aware of just how _vulnerable_ he actually is. Tony doesn't have to save him, Bucky sure wouldn't blame him if he didn't.

There's murmured conversation behind him and more clanking-- until there isn't. Bucky's eyes fall shut in anticipation and maybe a little fear. He doesn't want to see because seeing means believing and he doesn't _know_\- doesn't know if he can deal with the truth just yet.

"Mr. Stark." One word cut through the air in Steve's resigned bitter tone puts an end to the silence.

"Captain."

And oh, _oh_, it's the same voice that's been in his dreams for the past year, been in his mind for even longer and how Bucky thought he could ever resist this beautiful man is so beyond him.

"Hey, bello," Tony's voice is quiet but _right there_ and Bucky breathes a sigh of relief as soft skin brushes his cheek even as his eyes remained screwed shut. "Want to open those pretty eyes for me, innamorato? Hm?"

And maybe it's the honey-coated words that do it or the fact that Bucky can literally smell Tony from where he's chained on the post. It's not his usual scent— it's sweat and the metallic of blood mixed with oil and the lingering fresh scent of aftershave— but it's still so inherently _Tony_ that he can't help but breathe it in.

So he does the only thing he can think of— he opens his eyes. And now that they're open, he doesn't think he can ever stop looking at the mesmerizing sight in front of him. Tony, in a worn t-shirt and jeans, Tony with his artfully tousled brown hair, Tony with his whiskey-brown eyes that are so, so _alive_ that it makes tears spring to Bucky's own eyes.

"Tony." He's whimpering now and he doesn't know if it's from Tony here, in the flesh, or the fact that there's still a bomb strapped to his chest. Either way, Tony doesn't comment on it.

"There you are," he smiles a real smile, lips curled and barely showing a hint of white teeth.

"You're alive." Because of course he is, he's standing right in front of him but still, Bucky feels the need to confirm it, doesn't want to get hurt all over again.

"Should have never let you think otherwise," Tony agrees, a flash of something akin to regret in those expressive eyes.

"While this is great-" Clint smirks from across the warehouse and, wow, Bucky forgot they were all here. "I'd prefer not to blow up today."

"Surprisingly, I'm agreeing with Barton," Steve sighs as though agreeing with the archer is the worst thing on the planet. "Can we get this show on the road?"

"Awh, Captain," Clint hums and Bucky tunes them out, much too aware of Tony's fingers drifting across his skin onto the bomb.

He works diligently, work-hardened hands uncrossing wires and artfully reworking cords. Bucky should be nervous, of course he should. There's a bomb strapped to his chest and it could go off who knows when, killing everyone in the immediate area. But, despite all of that, he's absolutely not. How could he be with Tony biting his lip in concentration, lines on his forehead as he frowns. He's undeniably beautiful in this moment and every other moment Bucky can remember.

"I'm sorry I didn't go to your funeral," Bucky blurts out because out of everything he wants to say, _of course_ that's what comes out of his traitorous mouth. 

"James," Tony sighs in fond exasperation, shaking his head slightly before returning to his task. "I'm sorry I even had a funeral."

"You can make it up to me, you know."

"Make it up to you?" Tony raises an eyebrow. "Your friend _shot_ me."

"He's sorry!"

"I'm not really, but," Steve shrugs casually even as Bucky shoots him a glare.

"As I was _saying-_" and now Tony is working on the chains which means the bomb has to be diffused now, right? "-would working together really be the worst thing in the world?"

"Yes," Clint and Natalia reply in unison from somewhere behind them but Bucky pays no mind.

"I almost died, you almost died, and this is what you're thinking about?" Now he knows Tony is amused because his arms are crossed playfully over his chest as he eyes a now-free Bucky. "You need to check your priorities, cara mia."

"My priority is you." Somewhere, one of their friends is gagging as they make the executive decision to leave the warehouse because '_even dealing with HYDRA is better than watching this._'

"That so?" Tony hums and Bucky takes one step closer. "I don't know, I'm kind of a big deal."

"Figured there might as well be some benefit to you saving me all the time," Bucky teases as he raises his own hand to touch Tony and, wow, is that something he'll never take advantage of again. "Let us help each other."

Tony closes his eyes at the touch, body going lax in response to Bucky's own. This. There was never anything more important than this. 

"We might be able to work something out."

Yeah, Bucky thinks. They'll be just fine.


End file.
